


Mano Mylimasis ~ A Hannigram Ficlet

by TheCourtJester485



Series: Hannigraham Drabbles & Ficlets! [2]
Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Anniversary, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Married Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Some Fluff, Vulnerable Will Graham, Will Graham Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24758407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCourtJester485/pseuds/TheCourtJester485
Summary: On the night of their anniversary dinner, Hannibal's worried something's wrong. Luckily, he's there for Will when he needs him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Hannigraham Drabbles & Ficlets! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775362
Comments: 1
Kudos: 106





	Mano Mylimasis ~ A Hannigram Ficlet

“ _Will?_ Will, are you in here?”

Nothing–nothing but silence echoes back in response. For several nights and now all of today, Hannibal has been the sole company of the house. Much to his concern, Will hadn’t joined him at breakfast or lunch, and now unlikely to show for dinner; they were planning on dining at the village restaurant in an hour, table pre-booked and suits awaiting their purpose in the wardrobe for this evening’s long awaited festivities. He’s fully aware his other half hasn’t been himself as of late: mostly sitting on the edge of the bay window in their bedroom, staring out of it absent mindedly while the rain pebbled against the glass panes–book open in his lap but rarely turning a page, hand instead perched beneath his jaw. Two days ago Hannibal was sketching him at that same window when he persuaded him to the idea of dinner and wine for their upcoming 1st anniversary.

‘–no doubt the air would do you some good,’ he’d proposed, ‘we can always leave if you wish. Perhaps even a walk if you aren’t hungry?’ to which Will broke from his thoughts and the muscles in his face struggled a tired simper as he offered an agreeable hum in return–his gaze weighty as it veered over to him briefly. In that moment Hannibal wanted nothing more than to ask what was wrong, to encompass Will in his arms, to hold him close and murmur the words,

 _I can help you, if you ask me to_.

But he didn’t. He knew he wouldn’t say even if he asked, if he _pleaded_. Instead, he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, parting with gentle lips pressing against his forehead prior to leaving him coupled with his rain and his book. Understanding when he was ready to talk, then he would–and Hannibal would always listen.

He rasps his knuckles against the mahogany door once again, repeating himself. Still nothing, “I’m coming in, alright?”

Sweeping open the door, it sounds a delicate creak with the room inside harbouring in a bitter chill. Across from him sits a table lamp beside the bed, it’s soft glow flooding the surrounding space in muted gold, bleeding into the dark, like ink. Will’s not on the bed, nor by the window he's spent so much time beside; breathing in, traces of salt linger in the air, almost as if someone had been crying. Cautiously, he looks to the left of where he stands.

There he is.

Will’s sat with his back against the wall, arms bare and hanging over raised knees both spread apart from one-another; he’s still adorned in his typical sleepwear of boxers and Hannibal's favoured Henley shirt. Seeing this, his upper lip twinges and his eyes show the briefest glimpse of confusion with the syrupy orbs reflecting the light emanating from the hallway. He kneels down in front of him, though the younger of the two hasn’t moved a muscle. Only blinking once or twice through a near unreadable expression.

“Are you alright–can you hear me?”

With no reaction, his face remains closed to him as he continues to sit there, blankly staring into nothing; it’s almost as if he doesn’t realise Hannibal’s there. The former psychiatrist searches deep within the ocean blue irises, the countless seconds passing by merely flooding his thoughts with questions… yet see’s nothing staring back.

“Don’t go inside, Will-” he urges, his hand finding it’s place on his beloveds stubbled cheek with the other trailing up his forearm as if to coax him out of this trance. When he moves closer to whisper in his ear it's likely Will can feel the Lithuanian’s breath tickling the nape of his neck, “ _Mano mylimasis_ –don’t wade into the quiet of the stream...”

At long last he hears a sudden, quivering breath past his ear. Pulling back his head, he’s privy to the raw vulnerability shrouding Will’s exhausted face, the look finally having changed.

“Hannibal?” he says, almost inaudibly.

“Yes, yes it’s me. You haven't had a bite all day... What’s troubling you?” he brushes the chocolatey locks from his eyes and allows his fingers to slip down, the knuckles gliding back and fourth across the rough jawline before returning to his cheek and cupping it gently.

Will leans into the touch, sighing heavily against his palm. Having been asked, he takes a quiet moment to find an answer, though it bears no fruit, only crumbling leaves fleeting from the decaying branches of his mind. The moistened lids of his eyes flicker, more like a twitch, “I don’t know. I–are _you_ okay?”

Immediately, Will’s pulled into his lap and bundled into a comforting embrace. It doesn’t take long for him to clutch tightly at the man’s back, balling clumps of the red cashmere sweater into his fists, not daring to let go in case he shatters. They bask in the comforting silence of each other, not really moving beside the occasional shift of fingers or the alternating pressure of their arms squeezing tighter, drawing the other as near as possible to the point where suffocation may become an issue.

A sense of much needed comfort washes over Will, the warmth of Hannibal’s touch and the soothing tone of his voice allowing him to calm, to come back from wherever he just was. A great many minutes pass when he finally breaks the silence; his voice muffled against Hannibal’s shoulder, “Can we go for that walk?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey peeps, figured a little hurt/comfort style fic would be a welcome edition.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :-D


End file.
